


Maybe It's Not a Magical Place, But It's Pretty Great for Sunburns and Mojitos

by florahart



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AoS season 5 fixit, Centipede is based on Extremis come ON, M/M, Tahiti really?, cameo by Melinda May
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 05:58:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14763935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/florahart/pseuds/florahart
Summary: Phil's gone off to Tahiti.  Clint shows up.(post AoS Season 5 finale)





	Maybe It's Not a Magical Place, But It's Pretty Great for Sunburns and Mojitos

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I'm not having the Phil hares off to Tahiti to die thing. I'm also not excited about him dragging May along with him for it.

“Tahiti? Really? Little on the nose, don’t you think?” Clint let himself in through the tent flap and then through the layers of plastic sheeting they had set up to make a rough clean room for the administration of painkillers and the whole cocktail of stuff keeping Phil's heart beating. For the moment.

Phil looked up over his glasses and set down his book on one bermuda-shorted thigh. “Barton, I’m dying. If I want to go to Tahiti for real this time, I think I’m entitled. What are you doing here?" 

"Visiting you in the sunniest, sandiest, beachiest hospital in the world, I guess? Because when you worked out there were some serious fucking bugs with the TAHITI protocol and also oh hey went for a spin on some other planet god knows where and took a whirl at a future that no longer exists, I think, Jesus that's complicated, you decided sure, why not, how about I go lick my wounds _and die_ in Tahiti, sure."

Phil held up the arm with the IV taped into place. "Well, soon as this dose is in, I'm going to head out for some epic sunburn and mojito-drinking on those beaches. No point in sunscreen now, and I'm not going to be needing my liver for very long."

"Okay, fuck that." Clint said. "That's no way to live."

"Why not?" 

“Because there’s no earthly reason you need to be dying? Come on, sir. Stark fixed Extremis in the wild, a whole other way than the _Centipede_ project and without any damn aliens, like three _years_ ago, and Fury surely read you in. I don’t even know why your team went with _Centipede_ in the first place.”

“We understand _Centipede_ and how it would and should interact with the existing alien DNA I already got courtesy of TAHITI. Well, Simmons does. _Extremis_ is a hot mess—”

“Literally!”

“Oh my god, Barton, what is wrong with you.”

“What! It is literally hot! People exploded, until Stark _fixed it_. I mean, you started it!”

“I didn’t. I really didn’t. In any case, as you said, Extremis doesn't include the aliens. We have no idea how it would interact with the garbage, including the aliens and the time travel and the infinity stone encounter, and fuck if I know what all else, already floating around my body, which has evidently been trying to rot while continuing to function for some time. All I wanted was to enjoy my remaining days without a goddamn care and why are you here? You don’t need to see this.”

“May called. By the way, you _do_ remember she had to just relatively quite recently deal with Garner turning into a literal hate monster and then getting dead? This on top of her general trauma from Bahrain and banging Ward which by the way I think should have been traumatic regardless of the rest of that story, and anyway, then from what I hear some pretty spectacular fuckery in your _Matrix_ adventure? Like, you want her to watch her oldest friend die too, like she’s not already in serious walking wounded territory?”

“Framework.”

“Same concept. Also, add that to the pile of bullshit in your body, but it's a _known quantity_. So anyway, that’s shitty of you and also no one else besides you wants you to go, and we can fix you, so like, selfish, much?”

“She's here as my friend. It's not the same as with Andrew, and anyway, she signed up. We talked."

"Stilllll shitty. I know this because everyone else who is _also your friend_ is crying into their beer – while they get shit done because they're professionals, but believe me, crying. So how can you ask her, and them, and _us_ , to do this?"

"Death with dignity? Ever heard of it?”

“I have, and I believe in it. So do you, and so does your team, and so does the fucking military in general; this is what the _coup de grace_ is _for_. But man, that’s for when pain is irremediable and death is inevitable.”

“Think death is always inevitable.”

“You know what I mean. _Immediately_ inevitable.”

Phil yanked the IV out of his arm, painkillers be damned. “I’m going outside.”

“Bullshit. I’m here with Extremis, and, okay, here’s the thing. _You know I would not be here for this if I weren’t confident it would work_. Killing you again would break me. So here’s my play: if it doesn’t work, I will. Kill you again. My own hand. And never be okay again, okay?”

“Will you be okay if you do nothing?”

“Probably not.”

“So how’s your plan different, other than pain for everyone?”

“My plan includes hope for survival. _Realistic_ hope. Hope you should believe in because I do and as I recall there were several times when you asked me to believe in myself because you did, so this is the flip side.”

Phil closed his eyes. “Hawkeye…”

“Clint. I’m here being Clint, and I’m asking you to trust me.”

“No. You’re asking me to tell you to your face that I would rather die than let you try this terrible idea to selfishly save my own neck, and you know that’s a dick move.”

“Not dickier than making May help you get along while you don't do a damn thing to avoid unnecessarily dying, which is _not_ selfish because all the reasons I already told you.”

“Look. I hadn’t thought about Andrew, it’s true, but I’ve been on borrowed time for _years_ , Barton. Five--”

“Clint.”

“Fine, Clint. I’ve been on borrowed, maybe stolen, time for five years, Clint.”

“I know. I killed you the first time.”

“Think not.”

“Think so. Anyway, because I _do_ believe in personal agency, I did not just wait for you to go frolic in the sand and then let myself in and spike your IV. Which would have been easier and cheaper. Please don’t make me regret my choices.” Clint pulled an injectable vial out of his breast pocket and held it out. “I swear, if it breaks you, I take you out.”

“And then you take _you_ out.”

“Might be part of taking you out. I’ll do it Deadpool style, big hug and a big truck.”

Phil squinted at him. “I don’t want to die, you know. I’m not actually suicidal.”

“Yeah, I know. Question is, do you want to live? For me?”

“Do I want to live _for you_?”

“Well I mean. For my benefit, if that’s what I get, but like.” Clint set the vial on the table and shoved his hands in his pockets, scrunching up his shoulders and shuffling a little. “But like, I kind of hope for a different outcome. But I will take that one.”

“What different outcome, Barton? No, I know. Clint.”

"The different outcome where you and me get to talk about the thing we've never actually talked about."

"Which is?" Phil crossed his arms over his chest. If this was going where he thought it must be—and Clint wasn't wrong; they'd never talked about it—then he needed Clint to spell it out.

"Which _is_? Come on, Phil. We lived in each other's pockets as a team for a long time. You can't not know I've been at least halfway in love with you since a year that started with a one."

"Halfway in love isn't a great reason for me to go risking things like exploding, or a horrible death, or turning crazy-evil in some kind of epic fuckup. You've seen the files from when I was carving, right? The pictures of my chest trying to die for the last several weeks? You know I have every reason to think fooling Mother Nature can go horribly wrong?" He felt his body gaining tension and tried to relax; tension meant his pulse got faster meant he was more likely to get lightheaded or pass out again or for that matter go back into cardiac arrest.

“I just…” Clint shrugged again. “Fuck it. Words suck.” He stepped forward and leaned over, pulling Phil upright and kissing the hell out of him.

Phil was startled, for all this was where this had probably been leading, but got with the program with what he thought was admirable speed, kissing back and leaning forward into Clint until he was breathless and… okay actually really short of breath, maybe trying to die right now, shit. “Uh.” He pulled back, panting, and shook his head. “We. Can’t do. Clint…” Stupid heart rate.

Clint started to object, then looked at him more closely and drew in a sharp breath. “Okay, I was trying to shut you up with the objections, not actually kill you right now. What do you need?”

“Oxygen.” Phil sat down hard on his bed again, gripping the edge of the mattress. “Air. adrena. line? I...” 

Clint picked up his feet, helping him to lean back against the raised pillows again, then plucked the mask off the IV stand and started the oxygen, watching him closely until he started to relax. “I did mean it, though. In case that wasn’t clear. And if there are selfish reasons here, they're mine, not yours.”

Phil nodded and took a couple breaths, then lifted off the mask to speak.

Clint stuck out a hand and stopped the movement. “Nope. Not ‘til you’re breathing good on your own.”

Phil scowled and signed _sign, then._

Clint nodded and signed back. _Meant it, please think._ He spelled out, _E-X-T-R-E-M-I-S_. Sure, there was no reason he couldn't speak; nothing wrong with Phil's ears; however, it was what they'd always done when his ears were down, so.

_Dangerous. Not tested. Combination._

“Yeah, me and dangerous combinations are like bestest of best friends anyway, and this one can bite me, but also, Stark _fixed it while it was already unstable in Pepper's body, under duress_. He knows what he’s doing and it's not like he hasn't been fucking with Chitauri artifacts and the damn stones in general for five years in addition to obviously not at all hacking SHIELD to read up on the current trends every couple of weeks. He tailored it to you, specifically, and he says it will work. I believe him.”

_Drug. Not same._

_Promise I’ll make safe._

Phil growled under the mask and didn’t bother lifting it to say a heated _fuck_ underneath it. He added an ASL-noncompliant gesture to reiterate, then added _Ready before. Peace before. Now questions._

“Well, you gotta live long enough to answer ‘em, then?”

Phil offered another middle finger and scowled again, then grumpily picked up the vial and held it up. He mimed jabbing it into his thigh, glanced a the IV line, and raised his eyebrows.

Clint didn’t even try to hide his bright smile or the tears that came to his eyes. “Either. You need help?”

Phil scowled again, then set it down to have both hands free. _You ready. Hawkeye ready. In case._

“What, in case you turn into Lash or Hive on the spot? I don’t really think—”

Phil cut him off with a sharp slashing motion. _Ready._

“Fine.” Clint held up a finger. “I’ll be right back. You keep breathing so you’re as good as possible before you do it, and also for the record unless you got a problem with it I plan on kissing the shit out of you as soon as the stuff stabilizes so like, gird your loins or something.” He ducked out the flaps again and was back in about two minutes with his bow. 

Phil carefully took off the oxygen mask. "Telling me things that should probably jump up my pulse if your theories are valid isn't a great way to keep me from passing out again."

"What?"

"About the kissing."

"Did it? Jump up your pulse?"

"Yes, but I already had the mask on so I practiced meditative breathing while you were out."

"Good. Now take your medicine and don't fucking die."

"May up to speed?"

"May _called me_. Yes, she's up to speed. Also, in case you think it escaped my attention, _you_ did not call me. So, like, we have things to discuss, outside of the kissing."

Phil rolled the vial in his fingers. "And what _about_ the kissing? How does it fit into this whole story?"

"It's not halfway, Phil, and it was one thing when you were busy with work and we had all this world-saving to do, but if you're retiring anyway? Yeah, no."

"And what if this heals me, and so I unretire?"

"Awkward, with the plaque on your plane."

"Might do it anyway."

"Then we'll have had tonight. Or not. Your call, but I'm not letting you die for no reason."

The layers of sheeting opened behind Clint, and Melinda poked her head in. "If you're going to be a while arguing with your conscience yet, I'm going up the coast to the spa. Unless you need anything else."

"Did you just call me his conscience?" Clint said, looking over his shoulder. 

"Nah. He's arguing with you separately. Phil, if you wait too long on this Natasha will get here and then you'll have three arguments on your hands."

"Four, looks like," Phil said, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Maybe. So, pedicure, I'm thinking. I'll probably be a couple of hours. In case there is anything you'd like to do in that span of time." She dropped the door-flap closed and moved away.

Phil rolled his eyes. "Why on earth did she not just make this case to the team, once Daisy had Talbot managed?"

"No idea, but so, do you really want not to do it? Did you really not even think that Stark surely would have kept hold of the formula and stayed current on ways it was being used?"

Phil closed his eyes. "I'm tired, Clint. I've been tired for a decade."

"Fair enough. Anyway, I'm ready when you are, but if you're not doing it, then I'd rather help you get the painkiller going again. I'm not here to watch you suffer."

Phil rolled the vial between his fingers again, then popped the cap and stabbed it into his thigh. 

Clint took a couple of steps back, bow in hand, and watched as Phil's skin lit up from inside, as arteries and muscles went electric, as the effect traveled from place to place on him and then eventually, many minutes later, settled. "Well?"

"Well, I feel like I could probably strangle an elephant, not that there are any in the area," Phil said, "but that doesn't mean the effect will last, or won't go nuclear." 

Clint nodded. "How long you feel like you need to wait to feel sure?"

"No idea."

"If I accept the risks, can I come closer?"

"You said you'd take me out. You can't do that if I get to you first."

Clint shook his head. "Sure I can. Deadman switch." He pulled back the corner of his collar to show a tag embedded in his skin. 

"What, you die, you explode?"

"Something like that. I die, _you_ explode, although it's nanotech, and Stark can turn it off once you feel okay about it."

"You might have mentioned you'd installed a failsafe."

Clint shrugged. "I like it better when you trust me. Sir."

"Phil."

"Phil. So, about the kissing..."

"Get over here. Also, I'm staying retired."

"You've thought about it?"

"I was retiring this year either way. Timetable moved up by all of two months, but I'm not going back for seven weeks of paperwork." He sat up and met Clint halfway. 

"No? But you _love_ paperwork, Sir. Phil."

"Let you in on a secret?" Phil leaned in close and whispered, "I really, really don't." Then he wrapped the fingers of his prosthetic hand around the material of Clint's tac vest and pulled him forward. "I think we have about ninety minutes left."

"Unless Nat gets here first," Clint said. "Probably followed by your geek squad, since I can't imagine she wouldn't fill them all in."

"Call her."

"You got it." Clint got out his phone and texted quickly, then tossed it on the table next to the empty vial and its cap. "Sent her to get that pedi with May. How sturdy you think this bed is?"

"No idea. Why do I still have a prosthetic hand?"

"It has a _shield_ in it, Phil. And an x-ray, and I don't know what all else but it's _fancy_. Stark took that into account."

"He ...reprogrammed to specifically not... how does that even work?"

"Not a clue. Probably it means you don't regrow limbs but that's, like, fair enough. You can ask him to work on it if you want."

"...Maybe later." Phil pulled Clint close against him. "What do I need to know about the deadman switch, and do we have lube?"

Clint smiled and kissed him. "It's stitched in pretty good, and there's another one on my back. I don't think you can kill me without actually killing me, if that's your point."

"Perfect, because I want to touch all of you with no unwanted exploding."

"Cool. Our interests, like, align." Clint pulled two mismatched lube packets out of his vest pocket, then sat up and pulled it and his shirt off. "And yes, yes we have lube. Because priorities. And later, we can go for some epic sunburn and mojito-drinking if you still want."

"Mojitos yes. Sunburn would probably mess with the touching." Phil trailed his fingers down Clint's chest and unbuttoned his pants with a flick. Clint shuddered.

"Yes. Touching is good. How is it you always have a plan that makes sense?"

"It's good to have skills." Phil sucked a bruise into Clint's shoulder and nuzzled across his collarbone. "And right now, my plan involves orgasms, if you feel like that's a sensible goal."

"So sensible." Clint shoved his hand down the back of Phil's shorts. "I'm in."


End file.
